Jerard.
.
They moved fast, boots muffled on cracked pavement, their route carved into instinct after years of slipping through the seams of the Lower City. The air was colder than usual, dense with a strange kind of silence. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that told you something was wrong.
Jerard adjusted the grip on the wrapped satchel over his shoulder. Brenah walked at his flank, her jaw tight and eyes scanning the rooftops. Greaves and Cranox followed a step behind, tension etched into the set of their shoulders. They had all felt it.
People were absent. Curtains twitched but faces didn’t appear. Doorways were closed, shutters locked. A few stragglers on the far end of the street walked too quickly, heads down, as if afraid to breathe.
Jerard’s gut twisted.
“something isn’t righ
